My mother was lucky to find a job as a nurse in a local children's hospital in Issyk. There was a barrack by the hospital, where its employees were living. My mother was given a place there, even shabby linen.
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nina polubelova
In 1944 Rosa and Lucien went to Almaty from Issyk. My mother wasn't willing to go with her, but she didn't want to stay in Issyk either. We covered a distance of over 1500 kilometers and went to Novosibirsk [3000km from Moscow]. We were housed in long barracks, where evacuees lived. It was easier to live in Novosibirsk as compared to Issyk. There were coal mines not far from Novosibirsk and evacuees were given coal for heating. My mother and I were given warm clothes. My coat was too small for me. We weren't suffering from cold neither outside nor inside. My mother found a job at a bakery plant. Apart from food cards [12], plant employees were able to buy bread at the plant. There was a canteen where the employees and their children were given food once a day. It was easier with products in a big city, not like in Issyk. My mother got food cards for both of us: one worker's card and one dependent's card. We didn't receive only bread for the cards, but also cereal, fat and a little bit of sugar. I put on weight for some time and didn't look like a skeleton anymore.
Finally, I went to school in Novosibirsk. I was ten and was supposed to go to the third grade for my age, but I didn't know letters, I didn't know how to read and write. In spite of that the teacher talked my mother into letting me go to the third grade in order to give me a try. I remember my first teacher with gratitude. She paid a lot of attention to me and taught me after classes. At first, I merely listened to the teacher in the classes and memorized things, listened in the class, as I didn't know how to read. I remember, once she called me to go to the blackboard and I got 1 [Editor's note: '1' means 'very poor']. I came home feeling really proud and told my mother about my 'success.' Gradually things were getting better. Either the teacher was very good, or I was capable, in about half a year I caught up with the majority of the class.
On 9th May 1945 we found out about the end of the war and the unconditional surrender of Germany. Of course, all of us understood that the war was about to end, but still we took the news as unexpected joy. Unacquainted people hugged each other in the streets, congratulating each other. In the evening everybody was out singing, dancing, watching festive fireworks. Everybody rejoiced in regained peace.
We had stayed in Almaty for about a year. Finally, my mother decided to move. Irina found out that the apartment we used to live in before the war, was occupied by other people. She went to Ispolkom [13] to apply for lodging in another house. We moved to the apartment, where I'm currently living. My mother went to our previous apartment hoping that some of our things were still there, but she came back empty-handed. In evacuation we learned how to get by with minimal things. Upon our return we hoped for a better life. When we returned to Riga, my father came. He had been demobilized from the army. He started working as a driver. My mother worked in a pharmacy. I went to the third grade of a Russian school.
All of us were pioneers [14], and then Komsomol [15] members. In other words, we were Soviet children. Though, people let me feel that I was a Jew. Teachers treated me well, anti- Semitism was displayed among children, but I never felt it coming from Lettish children. Offensive words were spoken by children who came to Latvia from the USSR.
When we came home, we found out about the fate of our relatives, who hadn't left Riga. All of them perished: both my grandfathers, Uncle Vulf, his wife and three-year old daughter Sarah. We don't know the circumstances of their death, whether they died in the Riga ghetto [16] or during the execution of ghetto prisoners in Rumbula Forest [17]. We didn't find out about all the fascist atrocities right away. Only in 1947 the Nazi and politsei were tried. None of them remained alive.
The events taking place in the USSR in the late 1940s, early 1950s, didn't affect our family. During the Doctors' Plot [18] my mother was working in the pharmacy, but she wasn't fired, not even nagged. In general, it was almost unnoticeable for us.
I remembered the day of Stalin's death: 5th March 1953. I was in the tenth grade. Everybody was crying, when there was an announcement on Stalin's death. I don't know why but I also burst into tears. Maybe I was influenced by the fact that everybody was crying around me: teachers and students. The situation was solemn: there were wreaths everywhere; the school orchestra played a funeral march, there was mourning. I remember that I had to answer a question on the blackboard in my chemistry class before the mourning meeting. The teacher gave me an excellent mark saying that even on such a hard day for the country I did well. I was flattered by her praise. I cried and mourned after lessons.
Everybody was at a loss. We got used to the fact that everything in the Soviet Union was done in Stalin's name. He was a decision-maker and we couldn't picture our lives without him. Life went on. In a while people started coming back from the Gulag [19], those who were deported in 1940 [20]. Then one of our distant relatives was released from the camp. He came to Riga. I knew nothing about him; I didn't even know that he existed. My parents had a long conversation with him, but I didn't take part in it. I remember that I was curious to see the man who had spent many years in Northern camps.
Everybody was at a loss. We got used to the fact that everything in the Soviet Union was done in Stalin's name. He was a decision-maker and we couldn't picture our lives without him. Life went on. In a while people started coming back from the Gulag [19], those who were deported in 1940 [20]. Then one of our distant relatives was released from the camp. He came to Riga. I knew nothing about him; I didn't even know that he existed. My parents had a long conversation with him, but I didn't take part in it. I remember that I was curious to see the man who had spent many years in Northern camps.
After the Twentieth Party Congress [21] and Khrushchev's [22] speech I learnt a lot, but I wasn't interested in politics that much.
I entered the dentistry department of the Medical Institute in Riga and found out soon that my mother, who had worked in medicine for a long time and knew a lot of doctors, pleaded with her acquaintance doctors for me in the board. Probably my mother could understand things were unperceivable for me at that time, and that there would be no chance for me to enter. I finished two terms at the Medical Institute and understood that it wasn't my cup of tea. I wasn't willing to work as a doctor all my life. I was lucky to transfer to the second course of the Chemistry Department of Riga Polytechnic Institute. I did well. I had excellent marks during the entire period of studies. I didn't feel anti-Semitism. Both teachers and students treated me fairly.
Vladimir wasn't only a good husband, but he became an excellent father to our daughter and loving son-in-law. After getting married, we lived with our parents. Upon graduation I started working in the laboratory of the chemistry plant in Riga. Vladimir worked as a radio engineer in the military unit. Our daughter Elena was born in 1964.
Upon return to Riga from evacuation my parents didn't stick to Jewish traditions and didn't mark Jewish holidays. Soviet holidays were celebrated such as 1st May, 7th November [23], Victory Day [24], Soviet Army Day [25], New Year. Of course, we marked birthdays of all members of the family. At that time Jewish holidays, Jewish religion, seemed obsolete to me and I thought it would be ridiculous for educated people to follow it.
In the 1970s, the Soviet regime permitted Jews to immigrate to Israel. I didn't even consider that opportunity. My husband was Russian and it was unlikely for him to immigrate to Israel. There was no sense in leaving. I liked my job. My colleagues treated me loyally. I didn't think our lives to be too bad, so I didn't even consider immigration. I sympathized with those who were immigrating, I even pitied them as they were doomed to live far away from their friends and kin and have a different mode of life. I understood that they would have to get acclimatized and take trouble in finding a place to live and a job. At that time many of my friends left as well as my relatives: my cousin Valentin, Uncle Samuel's son, cousin Lucien. Uncle Samuel's daughter Noemi immigrated to America. I was worried about them. I was happy that they were able to blend in with new life. We keep in touch. They send me nice letters. The most important thing is that they are confident in the future of their children and grandchildren.
My daughter did well at school. I must have plied her with love to chemistry as having finished school Elena decided to enter the chemistry department of the Polytechnic Institute. Though she was more attracted to inorganic chemistry, and it was okay. Upon graduation my daughter found a job in her specialty.
It was a hard period when Latvia regained its independence [26]. Many enterprises closed down at that time, as they couldn't survive under new conditions. There was huge unemployment that we didn't come across with in Soviet times. Elena couldn't find a job for a long time. When she found a job finally, the company was liquidated after a while and again she remained unemployed. My neighbor was a director of a kindergarten. Once I asked if there was a vacancy for Elena. She hired my daughter. Elena didn't expect to like working with children. Now she is deputy director of the kindergarten. She is happy with her work.
I retired in 1988 during perestroika [27]. Many people admired the early stage of perestroika and were agog to see the changes in life. I took it as another action of the Soviet regime and was skeptical towards it. Even now I can't say what perestroika gave me. I wasn't at the age to rejoice in liberty of words, press, traveling. Of course USSR citizens got an opportunity to go abroad and invite their relatives after perestroika, but I was elderly and sick, so there was no use in going anywhere. Perestroika resulted in runaway unemployment, lower living wage, and empty shelves in the store.
Soon there was the breakup of the Soviet Union [1991]. I took it hard. All of us got used to the Soviet Union, and the entire system was ours, our reality. We lost something when it broke up. It was many years ago. Nowadays life is as if the Soviet Union had never existed. Latvia and other former Soviet republics became independent and all of us had to learn how to live with a new reality. I can't say that it was easy for everybody or that the life now is easier.
The current mode of life is for young people who are able to adapt to new life conditions. Even many young people can't find a job, as one of the mandatory requirements is to know Lettish. Many people don't know this language, as it was enough to be fluent in Russian during the Soviet regime. It takes time to learn the language, but it's hard to go by in the period of studies without having any income. In general, common people have a hard living fearing that there would be no certainty in the future. During the Soviets we were guaranteed that we would live comfortably when reaching old age; medicine was free of charge, and now having skimpy pension and wages we have to pay outrageous amounts of money for medicine, and most people don't have it. It's the hardest for the pensioners, as they can't afford even necessary things.
Probably the only thing that perestroika gave me is revival of Jewish life in Latvia. The Latvian Society of Jewish Culture, LSJC, was founded during perestroika. It's an unreligious Jewish community. There is a religious community, which finally became legal during perestroika. The Soviet regime always struggled against religion [28], not only against the Jewish one. Approximately at that time I started coming back to Jewry. We kept friends with one Jewish family, which lived in our house. They invited me for the celebration of the Jewish holidays. At that time my reminiscences from childhood came back. I remembered how Jewish holidays were marked in the house of my paternal grandparents, and the way my grandfather carried out the paschal seder. I wanted it to be in my family as well. I learnt from my neighbor how to cook Jewish dishes. I didn't know what they were called.
I baked hamantashen, strudels, made forshmak, gefilte fish. I don't know why I wanted to learn how to cook those dishes. The first holiday marked in our house was Pesach 1995. That year our neighbors immigrated to Israel, and my husband and I decided to organize a feast at home. My husband approved of my kindled interest in Jewish traditions and history. Of course, there was no one who would be able to make a true seder in our family, but still I made traditional paschal dinner: there was matzah, mandatory dishes like bitter herbs, horseradish, salted water, a goblet for Eliagu, etc. My daughter also celebrated Pesach with us. It was the time when she started taking an interest in our history and traditions. Of course, she knew that I was a Jew, but she didn't pay much attention to that. I explained to her that the Jewish nationality was identified by my mother, thus my daughter is a Jew. Probably it wasn't important for her, but I wanted her to know.
In about that period of time I came to the LSJC. I wanted to learn Yiddish, find out more about Jewry. I also went to the synagogue for the first time. I knew nothing. I didn't understand anything. At that time I felt myself hurt and deprived and I wanted to fill the gap. There's a pretty good library at the LSJC. I tried to find Yiddish and Ivrit textbooks there, but failed. The circle of Yiddish language studies by the LSJC dealt with colloquial language only. I was enrolled there. My spoken Yiddish is pretty good: both listening comprehension and oral speech, but I didn't learn how to read in Yiddish. I don't think my parents knew how to read in Yiddish either. So, I can't read Yiddish, but my pals who know how to read Yiddish retell me the most interesting articles. I often go to the library, read books by Jewish authors in Russian and German. I read a lot about Jewish traditions and history. It's very important and interesting to me. I made many friends in the LSJC and my husband is happy for me.
When the Jewish choir was founded by the LSJC, I joined it. At first, I didn't attend rehearsals regularly, but within the last five years I try not to skip any single rehearsal. Besides, I feel happy when I'm singing. Besides, I have the opportunity to communicate with people. When people retire, they are cooped up most of the time, and it makes them despondent. When I attend rehearsals I feel fully-fledged, which is important for me. I know that people need our choir. We often take tours to different Latvian towns. We have a full house at our concerts, which aren't attended only by Jews, but also by people of other nationalities. We are often thanked after concerts, given flowers and I see tears in the eyes of the audience. It's very important for me to know that even now I can do good to people. Our choir is like a family. We get together to mark birthdays of our members, and celebrate Jewish holidays. The community, the social center Rahamim became our second home where we come with joy or with trouble, where we would be helped in everyday issues and given succor.
When the Jewish choir was founded by the LSJC, I joined it. At first, I didn't attend rehearsals regularly, but within the last five years I try not to skip any single rehearsal. Besides, I feel happy when I'm singing. Besides, I have the opportunity to communicate with people. When people retire, they are cooped up most of the time, and it makes them despondent. When I attend rehearsals I feel fully-fledged, which is important for me. I know that people need our choir. We often take tours to different Latvian towns. We have a full house at our concerts, which aren't attended only by Jews, but also by people of other nationalities. We are often thanked after concerts, given flowers and I see tears in the eyes of the audience. It's very important for me to know that even now I can do good to people. Our choir is like a family. We get together to mark birthdays of our members, and celebrate Jewish holidays. The community, the social center Rahamim became our second home where we come with joy or with trouble, where we would be helped in everyday issues and given succor.
My father's family lived in Riga. There was a Jewish pale of settlement [2] in tsarist Russia, and Jews with the exception of doctors, lawyers and merchants weren't permitted to settle in big Latvian cities. My paternal grandfather, Zalman Levin, dealt with timbering. He evidently got a permit to reside in Riga.
My father's family was religious, observing all Jewish traditions. I remember that my grandfather always wore a kippah at home. My grandmother wore high-necked dark dresses: woolen in wintertime and silk in summer. She had dark-colored dresses even in summer. My grandmother didn't wear a wig. Her hair was done in a roll, backcombed over the forehead. Jewish traditions were observed in my father's family; Sabbath and Jewish holidays were marked. On holidays the whole family went to the synagogue. My father and his siblings got Jewish education. Each of them had a bar mitzvah at the age of 13.
Of course, everybody in the family knew Yiddish, but Russian was mostly spoken. At that time Latvia belonged to the Russian empire and the national language was Russian. All children were fluent in German.
My father went to a Russian lyceum in Riga. Probably the rest of the children also studied there, I can't say for sure. Having graduated from the lyceum my father entered Riga University. I don't know which department. At that time there was an admittance quota for Jews in institutions of higher education, i.e. 5 percent [4] out of the overall number of students.
My grandfather owned an apothecary in Krustpils. My grandmother took care of the household.
Krustpils was a Jewish town like most small Latvian towns. Most of them were included in the pale of settlement, so sometimes there were more Jews in those towns than Letts, Russians, and Germans. Most of Krustpils Jewish population were craftsmen. All town tailors were Jews. Most tinsmiths, joiners, hairdressers and locksmiths were Jews as well. There were small shops in the houses of the hosts, where one or two people worked. There were large workshops with hired people. The trade was mostly under Jewish control. There were big and small shops, where poor people could buy necessary goods even on credit. There was local Jewish intelligentsia: doctors, pharmacists, teachers, and lawyers. There was a synagogue and a shochet in Krustpils. Apart from cheder there was also a compulsory Jewish school. Jewish families from Krustpils had a traditional Jewish mode of life. Probably in small towns like that, where almost all the people knew each other, nobody would take a risk in being a freethinker. Jewish people married only Jews. Traditional Jewish weddings were mandatory. I know that from my mother. I was in Krustpils only in my childhood. Now the town has changed.
My mother's parents observed Jewish traditions. Sabbath was always observed, and Jewish holidays were marked. On holidays the whole family went to the synagogue. Nobody worked on Saturdays and my grandfather's apothecary was closed. My grandmother observed the kashrut. I don't know where my mother and her sister got Jewish education, but both of them knew how to read in Ivrit and knew the prayers.
My mother and her sister went to a Russian lyceum.